


Soft Science

by sixflagstexas



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Chubby Rodney McKay, M/M, Ronon's suuuper into it, that's it that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:08:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29035197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixflagstexas/pseuds/sixflagstexas
Summary: The Lantean hanging in front of him is soft, squishy in ways Ronon can only imagine, details obscured in some awful red rubber suit. Ronon can tell by his jawline, the roundness of his cheeks, the thick set of his hips.Ronon's surprised the trap even held - he wouldn't have been so hasty with the knots if he knew he'd be hunting big game.
Relationships: Ronon Dex/Rodney McKay
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36





	Soft Science

**Author's Note:**

> I've only been watching Stargate for a couple weeks, and I haven't watched past the first couple episodes of season 3 for Personal Reasons. I'm not sure how else I'm supposed to react to liking food being a minor character trait for McKay, other than to go ahead and write this. In this fic McKay is Very Soft and Ronon is Very Interested, so if that's not what you're looking for etc etc etc.

Ronon doesn't quite get these people. There's a ruthless edge to Lanteans that feels all at once deeply unsettling and unsettlingly familiar, but they're all stilted formality and endless rules and regulations. 

He likes some of them, can take or leave most of them, and he sticks close to Teyla, John, and McKay whenever possible. 

Their leader being a tiny unarmed civilian puzzles him for a while, but then Ronon sees Dr. Weir get a military commander to stand down with a twitch of her eyebrow and he starts to understand it. Ronon also starts to think she might have magical powers.

He likes Teyla right away, never would have followed these people back to their base without her. 

He likes Sheppard, and he likes Carson, and finds the Marines he beats into a pulp on a daily basis largely inoffensive.

And, even though everyone else in Atlantis reacts with surprise and disbelief, Ronon likes Rodney McKay. 

He likes him from the moment he meets him, back on P3M-736. He thinks it's noble but incredibly stupid of the Lanteans to try and bring back their freaky mutated friend alive, and passes up several chances to stab several of Ford's most vital organs, before Sheppard chases him off.

Hanging upside down and babbling, Ronon knows this one's a Lantean because only a Lantean would be dumb enough to attempt to initiate a handshake in this situation. 

He's Sheppard and Teyla's missing teammate, Ronon recognizes the name when he introduces himself. Of course Ronon's going to cut him down _eventually_ , he just can't help but take his time inspecting the suspended scientist, not bothering to keep the naked hunger out of his eyes. 

The Lantean hanging in front of him is soft, squishy in ways Ronon can only imagine, details obscured in some awful red rubber suit. Ronon can tell by his jawline, the roundness of his cheeks, the thick set of his hips.

Ronon's surprised the trap even held - he wouldn't have been so hasty with the knots if he knew he'd be hunting big game. 

Ronon circles his prey, allowing himself one last lingering gaze before he tunes back into the steady stream of words tumbling out of the Lantean's - out of McKay's mouth. 

"-well not _friend_ really, more like former teammate? Well. I told him we were best friends. But I think he knew I didn't mean it, right? He tried to kill me, twice. Also I shot him and-"

McKay yelps when Ronon shoots through the rope holding him, and falls to the ground with a thud. 

Ronon grabs a handful of red rubber and hauls McKay to his feet, triggering another stream of consciousness monologue from him: "Thank you for getting me down. And not killing me. Unless you're still going to kill me. In which case, thank you for getting me down but _please_ don't kill me. I'm here with friends and I'm sure they're looking for-"

Ronon levels McKay with his most unimpressed glare and McKay shuts up with a squeak. 

Ronon feels his face twitch, realizes belatedly he's smiling a little bit. He _likes_ McKay. 

When they're back in the ship and McKay takes off his red protective covering, Ronon's suspicions about his body are confirmed. McKay’s tee shirt clings to his sweaty torso, putting the soft curve of his stomach and plush swells of his hips on full display.

He's not sure who agreed to let McKay, who seems to have the survival instincts of a rock, on such a dangerous mission. Someone that soft would be kept _safe_ on Sateda. 

Two days after he arrives in Atlantis, guard detail in tow, Ronon goes searching for McKay. 

Teyla tells him where he can find McKay but gets called away on her communication device before she can make the journey with him, leaving him to wander his way to the labs on his own. 

There are soldiers posted outside of the lab, and he’s fighting with those soldiers _and_ his personal detail when McKay pokes his head out of the lab to see what the commotion is. 

McKay blinks in surprise at the sight of Ronon, but his brow furrows in annoyance when he takes in the group of soldiers, hands hovering near but not on their weapons.

“Oh for the love of-” McKay sighs and rubs at his temples for a moment and says, “Stand down, you morons!” If anything, the soldiers tense up further as they turn their glares on McKay. 

“How can I help you?” McKay asks Ronon, hands on his hips.

“Wanted to talk to you,” Ronon says.

“And it can’t wait?”.

Ronon shrugs. He doesn’t know what passes for urgent around here. He just wants to talk to McKay. 

McKay sighs. “Fine. Come with me, if you insist on _talking_ you’ll have to make yourself useful.”

Ronon smirks. His security detail moves to follow him but McKay cuts them off. “I do _not_ have enough room in my lab for the cast of G.I. Joe. I think you can all spare me the dramatics and wait out in the hallway.” His guards take a step towards Rodney, flicking their eyes to Ronon and back.

McKay doesn’t take a step backwards, but relents with a sigh. “Fine. But stay back by the doors. It’s bad enough I’ll have one giant brute getting in the way.”

He follows McKay into the lab, to where something approximately the size of a toaster lies gutted with pieces spread across a workbench. Ronon accepts the dish of control crystals that’s thrust at him, and quickly realizes he’s supposed to drop one into McKay’s hand every time he puts it out, all grabby and expectant. 

Ronon says, “What are you doing?”

“Is that what you wanted to talk about?” McKay asks. The shirt he’s got on today clings to his body all the way down, the plush peaks of his nipples outlined behind the pale fabric. Ronon glances down, sees the shadow of his belly button where his shirt is pulled taut against his stomach. Little jiggles are sent through his body as he rotates his screwdriver.

“No.” Ronon says. 

It’s silent for a couple of seconds before McKay sighs and says, “We found this in one of the storage closets. We don’t know what it is. Something ancient. We can't get it to turn on, but there was a loose crystal near the power source so it _should_ power right up.” He puts his hand out for another crystal, “I’ve just gotta put it back together first.”

When it’s back together, the machine hums to life. Ronon stands back with McKay, looking at it. There’s no lights, just a gentle _hum_.

“What does it do?” Ronon asks.

“I have no idea.” McKay replies, and with a snap of his fingers a gaggle of other scientists descend with their scanners and their datapads. “The hard part was getting it to turn on.”

Ronon arches an eyebrow, and McKay says, “What? I just made it _look_ easy.”

“How do you feel about lunch?” McKay asks, “Do you want to get some lunch?” He shrugs into a jacket that hides the curves of his body but does nothing to disguise his bulk.

“I could eat.” Ronon says, and lets McKay lead him to the mess, guards trailing behind them. 

The array of dishes at breakfast had been overwhelming, and Ronon feels the same uncertainty as he and McKay approach the front of the line with their trays in hand, until McKay says, “Mashed tuber,” as he plops a couple of scoops onto his plate. “This is the same thing, but cut up and fried.”

Ronon grabs everything McKay grabs, the noodles in cheese sauce and the cooked fowl from the mainland. “You’re on your own for the vegetables,” McKay tells him, and Ronon grabs something green and something orange, while McKay watches him with a shudder. 

McKay’s plate is piled just as high as Ronon’s, and Ronon lets his own food start to cool as he watches McKay start to eat. Ronon finds the whole “fork” thing dumb and inefficient, but McKay weilds it expertly, taking giant bites of mac and cheese and mashed potatoes.

“Eat,” McKay tells him, and that jolts Ronon out of his thoughts. Ronon can put it away with the rest of them, and the food in Atlantis is the best food he’s had in a long time. 

Once he’s done eating and waiting for McKay to finish, Ronon says, “Why do they let you go on missions?”

McKay stops eating for a moment, eyes narrowed, and Ronon says, “Aren’t you too valuable to lose?”

That seems to placate McKay’s ego, and he stuffs a bite of mac and cheese in his mouth and chews thoughtfully before he swallows and says, “There’s stuff out there only I can do,” McKay tells him, shrugging. “Believe me. if I could just stay here, I would.”

He’s lying, more adventurous than he lets on, but Ronon lets it go. 

McKay hands him a plastic cup filled with something blue from his tray, popping the cap off another. “Jell-o.”

The Jell-o is weird, but it's sweet and springy and Ronan decides he likes it. 

All in all, it’s been going pretty well.

And then he finds out what happened to Sateda. Ronon appreciates that Sheppard and Weir showed him the MALP footage, but after he sees it the shattered landscape of his home planet is all he can see when he closes his eyes.

His guard detail is back on regular rotation and he sits alone in the room they gave him, staring blankly at the wall for a while and trying not to close his eyes. 

Eventually, there's a tentative knock at his door.

"Sheppard told me-" McKay starts before abruptly cutting himself off. "I heard-"

Standing in the doorway, Ronon grunts impatiently. 

"Dinner." McKay blurts, and then says, "I mean. Uh. Dinner? Would you like to get some? Dinner? With uh. With me?"

McKay's weirdly quiet at first, which is even more unsettling than the quiet of Ronon's quarters because he can feel McKay bursting with comments and complaints and questions.

Once they're seated in the mess with heaping trays of food, Ronon says, "What are you working on?"

Rodney looks torn, like he knows Ronon doesn't really care and is just trying to fill the silence but also like he lays awake at night dreaming of the day someone will finally ask him that question. 

His desire to talk wins out in the end, and he tells Ronon all about the Ancient files he's working on decoding. 

The Jell-o is red today. Ronon doesn't like it as much as the blue Jell-o, and McKay nods when he hells him as much, saying "Blue is the best flavor."

A couple of days later he’s just finished sparring with Teyla, packing up their gear side by side, when he says, “McKay.”

“What about him?” Teyla asks.

Ronon fiddles with his holster before strapping it on, “Is he courting anyone?”

Teyla’s eyebrows raise in surprise but she doesn’t skip a beat. “They do not call it courting here.” She says, “Dr. McKay has a date tonight, but he’s sharing his body with Lieutenant Caldwell so I am doubtful it will go well.”

Teyla's right - McKay's date is a minor disaster. Once news of that spreads through Atlantis, Ronon sets to courting McKay himself. 

Melena's mother always said _the way to a man's heart is through his stomach_ , but usually when she said that she was badgering Melena into putting down her textbook and fixing Ronon something to eat.

And Melena would refuse every time, of course, demanding to know why Ronon can’t make his own food. Then he would try, and Melena’s mother would chase him out of the kitchen and bring him something herself. His heart aches with the memory of home.

Not long after that, she would graduate from her studies and take a job at the local hospital. And then the culling.

Ultimately, Ronon decides to go the food route, and sidles up to McKay during the next mission. They're waiting for Sheppard and Teyla to wrap up negotiations, and Rodney's fiddling with something on his data pad when Ronon drops a Powerbar right on top. 

Ronon's feeling satisfied until Rodney narrows his eyes at him. Ronon narrows his eyes back. 

"Who told you about my hypoglycemia?" Rodney asks and Ronon blinks, blinks again.

"Your _what_?" 

Rodney's eyebrows shoot up, "If you don't know… Then why-?"

He looks McKay right in the eyes and lets his voice drop into his most threatening register, "Eat it. There are chocolate chips."

With a squeak, Rodney unwraps the Powerbar and takes a bite. 

Back on Atlantis, Ronon tracks down Carson in the med bay. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course, son." Carson says, leading him away from everyone else. 

"What's hypoglycemia?"

Carson's eyebrows raise in surprise. "Did something happen in the field?"

"No," Ronon says, and does not elaborate. 

"It's when a person's blood sugar drops," Carson says, and Ronon is already kind of lost. 

"What happens? When it drops?"

"Pale skin, rapid heartbeat, sweating. Loss of consciousness, if left untreated."

"Loss of consciousness?" Ronon feels something uneasy churning in his stomach, deep anxiety that always ends up being expressed as rage.

"Rarely. And that's _if_ left untreated."

It must be showing on Ronon's face because Carson hesitates before putting a hand on his shoulder, "Rodney's going to be fine. This isn't new for him. It's kind of you to worry, but he's got it under control."

Rodney has a lot of things under control, but he's got all of those things _just barely_ under control. Ronon doesn't feel any better at all about the whole thing as he heads right from the med bay to the labs. 

Even the handful of low sodium Powerbars Carson gave him to keep on hand just in case doesn't make him feel any better, and he drops the entire pile on McKay's work station before slumping down on the empty stool next to him. 

McKay's saved his ass, all of their asses, so many times since Ronon's got here that he fully understands why McKay has to go off world, why they have to send him out into the thick of danger about once a week. 

But the part where McKay doesn't have a security detail on him at all times, that's starting to puzzle Ronon. 

"Low sodium? Are these from the med bay?" McKay gives Ronon a wounded look, "Did you talk to Carson about me?"

"Figured I should," Ronon grumbles, "You wouldn't shut up about your damn hypoglycemia."

McKay turns bright red. "That's not- That is _not_ what happened."

Ronon keeps his face impassive and McKay deflates after a moment, mumbling a _thank you_.

The easiest way to make sure McKay eats enough on mission days is to get breakfast together, and time everything else out from there. 

McKay doesn't even protest, not anymore, just sulkily eats whatever Ronon hands him, like he'd rather experience _loss of consciousness_ than get bossed around by Ronon. 

Ronon brings a dozen Powerbars to Olesia. He leaves them in the jumper but doesn't imagine that to be much of a problem when he sees the spread layed out for them by the Olesians. 

It turns out to be a huge problem, later, when they're tied up in a shack 200 yards away from the jumper. 

Ronon can use a computer, thank you very much, and knows the list of symptoms to look for by now. The problem being, how does one tell if McKay looks _especially_ pale or irritable?

McKay gets taken away again, and Ronon watches his hands tied behind his back for any signs of shaking. Once McKay's gone he lets his head fall back against the post he's tied to in frustration, still writhing in his bindings.

"It's gonna be fine," Sheppard says, "McKay's gonna fix the jumper and they're not going to shoot anyone."

Ronon _knows_ they're not going to shoot anyone - he's going to kill them all if they do. 

"He needs to eat something," is all Ronon says in response. 

Sheppard stares at him uncomprehending, until he says, "Who? Rodney?" 

Ronon grunts in affirmation, looking away. 

"Rodney's not missing any meals," John says, though he doesn't sound unkind, "He'll survive. He's gotten through worse."

Ronon struggles against the leather binding his wrists even harder, and the burn of the bindings cutting clean through his skin does nothing to quell the sense of urgency he feels. "His blood sugar," Ronon says, petulant, unwilling to be mollified. 

"Don't let him use his hypoglycemia into bullying you into giving up all your Powerbars," John says. 

Ronon glares. "I don’t _get bullied_ into anything," he says. Especially not by the likes of Rodney McKay.

"Sorry," Sheppard says, not sounding very sorry at all, "My mistake."

Ronon goes back to turning his wrists in their bindings, but then Sheppard says, "Besides, he's only fainted once."

"Passed out," Teyla says. 

"Passed out. He's only passed out once."

Ronon stills, and then turns to glare at Sheppard. 

"It was after, like, two whole days without eating," Sheppard says, as if Ronon should be comforted that Sheppard let McKay starve. "It was this ancient device and we couldn't get it off him and he shouldn't have touched it in the first place."

That sounds about right, Ronon thinks, and starts struggling against his restraints again. 

It seems like hours before McKay is brought back to their little hut and Eldon tears a hole in the wall to spring them. 

Rodney's across the room from Ronon, and he's the last to have his bindings cut off. The leather strap binding his hands cuts across his waist, digging into his stomach, soft swells of flesh pushing up on their sides of the strap. Ronon has to press his fingers into McKay's yielding flesh to grab the leather strap, has to tug it up to slip the knife under. 

Ronon pauses momentarily, transfixed by the feeling of McKay's soft body, and it's only when McKay says, "Careful," that Ronon zones back in on the present. 

"Of course, McKay," Ronon says, not sounding half as gruff as he means to. He tugs McKay roughly to his feet to make up for it, keeping a firm grasp on his arm while he checks him over. 

His breath seems to be coming a little fast, but so is Ronon's, and he stares at McKay for a beat longer than he needs to.

Sheppard herds them out of the shack and to the jumper. McKay doesn't even try to protest when Ronon presses a Powerbar into his hand, just unwraps it and gets to work, opening up panels with his free hand. 

They're ushered right to the med bay when they get back, scanned and poked and prodded, but they're released after about half an hour and won't have to debrief until tomorrow morning. 

Sheppard's going to be knee deep in paperwork, but Ronon's looking at a free evening. 

He catches McKay before he manages to scuttle back to the labs and says, "Dinner?"

McKay doesn't need to explain the dinner selection. It's nothing Ronon hasn't seen before. It's silent as they sit side-by-side with their plates of pasta and red sauce, their stacks of garlic bread. 

Once their plates have been cleaned, McKay says, "How old are you?" 

It takes Ronon a moment to do the math. He was twenty two when he was captured, he spent seven years on the run. 

"You're 29?!"

He's not sure why McKay's so shocked. It's not that young at all by Satedan standards. His people would enter the military or enroll in college by fifteen, marry by twenty. He'd probably have a couple of kids by now, if his whole world hadn't ended. 

"What?" Ronon asks, defensive.

"That seems so young." McKay says, "You're so…" McKay waves vaguely at Ronon with his fork. "Competent. That's not usually a hallmark characteristic of someone in their twenties."

Ronon shrugs. He's probably not the average 29-year-old. From the regretful look on McKay's face, Ronon thinks he might realize that too.

"Hang on." McKay gets up and heads back towards the kitchens, coming back a moment later with a Jell-o cup in each hand. 

McKay glances around quickly before pulling a third pudding cup out of his jacket pocket. "I uh. I stole you an extra Jell-o."

It might be Ronon's imagination, but the second Jell-o is better than the first. 

And then Rodney blows up most of the galaxy. 

Ronon feels a weight off his shoulders now that Kell is finally dead, but any relief he had been feeling vanishes the moment he and Teyla step back through the gate. 

The gate room is packed but unnaturally quiet. Ronon clocks McKay and Weir in her office, and Weir's yelling loud enough that Ronon doesn't have to strain his ears to listen, even though they're a floor below.

He unpacks, goes to see Carson for his mandatory post-gate travel scan, and then he makes a beeline for the mess. 

There's a staggering amount of people with absolutely zero military training on Atlantis, and the kitchen staff prove themselves to be on that list. They're all investigating the small rock Ronan threw as a diversion while he stuffs his pockets with Jell-o cups. 

They turn back around in time to see him grab a spoon and stroll out of the mess. 

McKay's not in his quarters, and he's not in the labs. Ronon prowls through the recreation areas, but there's no sign of McKay there either. 

Sheppard doesn't know where he is, and scowls at the mention of McKay's name. 

Ronon starts searching the piers and spots a familiar shape at the very end of the third one he tries. 

The first thing McKay says is "How did you find me?" 

"You're not exactly hard to track," Ronon says, when he really means to say _I searched the entire city for you._

McKay huffs, and turns his head back out to the ocean. 

The waves lap against the pier, and Ronon breathes in the salty air. There's a breeze blowing, and the air is rapidly cooling as the sun sets. 

Ronon had picked up most of the gossip on his way to find McKay. The scientist that died, the five sixths of the galaxy, the falling out with Sheppard. 

A quiet McKay is an unnerving McKay. Ronon bears it for as long as he cares to, about five minutes of tense silent pouting, and then starts to empty his pockets. 

McKay turns to him when he hears him start shifting around, but stays silent as Ronon unloads his haul onto the pier between them. Half a dozen Jell-o cups, which Ronon stacks into a neat pyramid. 

“I don’t understand.” McKay says helplessly, looking up at Ronon with wide eyes. 

Ronon pulls the spoon out of his pocket and hands it over, but it doesn’t seem like that clears anything up for McKay. 

“I heard about what happened,” Ronon says, eventually, and McKay doesn’t relax at all, even a little bit. 

“And so you’ve come here to…?”

Ronon shrugs, feeling a little helpless himself. After Kell’s body hit the ground with a dull _thump_ , Ronon felt a longing bubble up in his gut for the sterile smell of the science labs, for the white noise of McKay yelling at his scientists. 

He’s here to selfishly seek his own comfort, and he’s foolishly hoping he could offer some comfort to McKay. 

“I killed my taskmaster,” is what he ends up saying, and McKay’s eyebrows knit in confusion.

“ _Sheppard_?”

“No,” Ronon says, and McKay’s shoulders sag in relief. “My Satedan taskmaster. Kell. He betrayed my people.”

“When did that happen?” McKay asks.

“About six hours ago?” Ronon says, “Give or take.”

“Well, I blew up most of the galaxy about six hours ago.” McKay says, and Ronon pretends he doesn’t already know. “I guess it’s been a banner day for AR-1.”

After a moment, Ronon picks up the Jell-o cup at the top of the stack and holds it out towards McKay, who looks at it consideringly. 

“It’s blue.” McKay says.

“That’s the best flavor,” Ronon says. “I stole them.”

McKay nods approvingly, ripping the top off the Jell-o cup. They're close enough that their shoulders brush together, and Ronon can feel the warmth radiating off McKay. He doesn’t scoot closer but he does lean in a little, and they stay there long after the sun sets. 

After that, McKay seems to decide they’re friends. He calls Ronon down to the lab to wrestle off particularly stuck panel coverings, seeks him out before every meal, and _beams_ when Ronon enters a room. He doesn’t even seem to be aware he’s doing it, and it makes Ronon’s stomach swoop every time. 

And the touches - Ronon _knows_ McKay has no idea he’s doing it. Sometimes he abruptly becomes aware of his hand on Ronon’s arm and snatches it back, looking away. 

It’s during such an incident Ronon realizes McKay has no idea they’ve been flirting. Ronon's pretty rusty in the romance department, himself, but McKay doesn't seem to pick up on _anything_.

So Ronon pushes it, seeing how far it can go. 

McKay pats him on the back when Ronon manages to dislodge a _very_ stuck jumper panel, and the next time they head through the Stargate Ronon guides McKay through with a hand on the small of his back. 

McKay doesn't seem to notice. 

Ronon drops off Powerbars with a friendly squeeze to McKay's upper arm, filing the sensation of soft fat over a surprisingly substantial amount if muscle away for later, and McKay just grins at him every time, fucking clueless. 

He's attracted Sheppard's attention, however, and Ronon didn't think it would be a problem until Sheppard corners him in the caves of Zaddick's hideout after he gives McKay a Powerbar and hisses, "What are you doing?"

Ronon shrugs. "Keeping watch," he says. Which is what he's doing skulking around the caves alone, but it's certainly not what Sheppard is referring to. 

"You know what I mean," Sheppard says, and Ronon raises an eyebrow, waiting. 

"With Rodney," Sheppard says finally, and Ronom turns to him. 

"What about _Rodney_?" Ronon asks. He turns so he's facing Sheppard entirely, shoulders squared and back straight. 

"If you're messing with him..." Sheppard says, and Ronon keeps his body still, his face impassive. 

"Does that seem like something I would do?" 

Sheppard sighs. "No, it doesn't." He's silent for a moment before he points at Ronon, mildly accusing. "You're up to _something_ though." 

"I like him," Ronon says, leaning back against the wall of the cave. 

Sheppard stares at him for a while before he deflates and leans against the damp wall next to Ronon. "And here I thought you were going to say something crazy."

Ronon shrugs. "He's a good man." Ronon _also_ wants to strip him out of his BDUs and use his teeth to mark the softness McKay is hiding underneath, but Sheppard doesn't need to know that. 

"He is," Sheppard says. And then he says, "So are you."

"This is your approval, then?" Ronon asks, kicking at rocks on the cave floor. 

Sheppard shrugs, "If you need it to be," he says lightly. "Not like Rodney makes a habit of following my orders anyways."

"You're his friend," Ronon says, "His brother."

"Then go for it," Sheppard tells him, pushing off from the wall to head back to Zaddick's lab. He doesn't get far before he turns around and says, "You're gonna have to tell him, though. He doesn't - McKay doesn't really pick up on stuff like that. Romantic stuff."

And then Sheppard goes and almost gets himself turned into an Iratus bug, and Ronon's not sure if it will ever be a good time to tell Rodney ever again. 

Ronon's not sure what the team did before he came on board, but without coordinating with each other, the three of them post up in the infirmary until Sheppard wakes up. 

It takes _days_ and by the time he does they've happened upon a great system of napping in shifts and taking turns running to the mess to grab food for all of them. 

Teyla made the most recent trip, and filled McKay's plate the same way she filled Ronon's and her own: half vegetables. McKay's in the process of convincing Ronon to trade his Jell-o cup for McKay’s vegetables when Sheppard starts to stir in his bed.

Sheppard croaks out, "Eat your damn vegetables, Rodney," but McKay runs to find Carson at the first sign of movement and doesn't hear him.

Not like McKay would listen to him anyways.

When Carson and his team rush in, and they all grab their trays of food and file out, making cursory attempts at finishing their meals even though something _considerably_ more important has come up. 

Ronon hands his Jell-o cup over to McKay as they wait for Carson to clear John for visitors. It's purple, not a huge loss, but McKay still smiles at him. 

It's not until after the Aurora, not until they're all lurking around trying to avoid a talking-to about disobeying a handful of direct orders on the mission.

They're out of Jell-o in the mess, but the kitchen staff give Ronon a couple plastic containers with something opaque and brown they promise he'll like more than Jell-o. 

He's at McKay's door before he can even think about it, and the door panel slides open before he can even knock. McKay walks right into his chest, pauses, and then grins up at Ronon. "I was just coming to look for you," McKay says, and steps aside to let Ronon enter. 

McKay's quarters are nice, tidy with big windows and framed photographs on the wall.

McKay sits on the bed and pats the bedding next to him. 

Ronon sits. He holds out a little cup. "The people in the kitchen said it's better than Jell-o," he tells McKay. 

"Snack Packs?" McKay pulls the top off right away but waits for Ronon to do the same before digging his spoon in. "They're pretty great."

Ronon pulls the top off his own. It's _definitely_ not Jell-o. It's softer and not bouncy and plops off Ronon's spoon back into the cup. 

"What flavor is it?" He asks. 

"Chocolate," McKay says. Like the little chips in McKay's favorite Power Bars. 

Ronon scoops some into this mouth. It's smooth and cold, just as sweet as Jell-o, though it doesn't taste much like Power Bars. 

It's what McKay would taste like if Ronon leaned over and kissed him right now. 

It's not the first time he's had the thought, but it's unusual that he has the impulse as well as the _means_. Usually there's someone around, or some emergency to address. 

It wouldn't take much, just a little lean forward. A little duck of his head. It would be so easy to grab McKay's by the fabric of his shirt and pull him forward, to slip his hands underneath the fabric and finally feel the curves of his stomach and hips. 

Ronon hands over the rest of his Snack Pack to McKay, who doesn't protest. He watches McKay's cheeks hollow slightly as he sucks on the plastic spoon before he pulls it out of his mouth, and it's all Ronon can do to keep sitting still beside McKay, to keep his hands to himself. 

Ronon clocks it the instant McKay notices the tension in Ronon’s shoulders, watches the sharp assessing movement of McKay's eyes as he examines him. 

He's almost finished with Ronon's Snack Pack. 

Ronon's face darkens as McKay's lips wrap around the spoon one last time, and McKay's eyes narrow in suspicion.

He nests the Snack Pack container into the empty one on the bedside table and he says, "I don't get it."

Ronon's eyebrows raise, "What's not to get?"

"It's not like I haven't noticed you always… being around and bringing me snacks. I'm not stupid," McKay says, "I just don't know _why_."

Ronon's eyebrows raise even further. "Yes you do," Ronon says. 

McKay sputters, cheeks turning pink, "I just said- Why would... There's not-" he looks up at Ronon, all flushed and soft and vulnerable. "I really, _really_ don't."

"I like you," Ronon says, and McKay flushes even deeper. 

"If you're messing with me…" McKay says halfhearted, distracted, and Ronon scoots closer on the bed. 

"Do you really think I would do that?" Ronon asks, inches away from McKay's face. 

"No," McKay says immediately, but then he thinks for a moment and says, "No, you wouldn't do that."

McKay tastes like chocolate Snack Packs when Ronon surges forward to kiss him, parting his lips obligingly and shuddering when Ronan nips at his lower lip. 

His hands fall to McKay’s hips and he gives a light squeeze to the softness there, unable to resist. 

McKay makes a huffy dissenting sound, and Ronon shushes him, starting to trail kisses down McKay’s neck.

Which frees McKay’s mouth up for talking, apparently. “I was _hoping_ that what why you were looking,” he says, squirming when Ronon sucks at the skin below his jaw, “But I wasn’t sure of course, and-”

Ronon captures McKay’s mouth with his own again, and it’s sweeter than blue Jell-o.

**Author's Note:**

> I just have a lot of Chubby Rodney feelings I needed to get out before I could start writing the Chubby Ronon fic no one asked for. I'm over on [Tumblr](https://sixflagstexas.tumblr.com) if anyone wants to screech about it w me.


End file.
